


breathless

by flybynight



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Dom/sub, Light BDSM, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 13:53:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9184570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flybynight/pseuds/flybynight
Summary: Arthur isn't fond of wearing things around his neck.





	

**Author's Note:**

> pairing: us/uk  
> rating: m  
> warning: bdsm, dom/sub themes  
> notes: Just a quick little thing I wrote for fun in lieu of actually writing anything substantial... For some reason when I'm extra determined to write other things, ridiculous ideas like this one crop up. WELL.

Arthur had a "thing" about his neck. Just a little quirk, a little thing about himself that he'd never really thought very much about. No one had ever asked. 

He didn't like people touching it. He didn't wear chains or necklaces. He refused to buy shirts with high collars. Even with lovers, he rebuffed their kisses, pushing them away from the area before they could even start. It made him feel strange, itchy, unsettled. It  _ annoyed _ him, and though in his line of work he was required to wear shirts and ties, he was always careful in his selection, neat but always mindful of it, that it was  _ there _ . It was a small thing, another factoid about himself that most would never know about. A little bit like his secret penchant for being sub in the BDSM scene, despite all his other misgivings and habits. 

He could give up a lot of things for the sake of pleasing his partners. At least, in the bedroom, anyway. It worked for him. It gave him a different kind of control that he craved, desperately, and though he'd been through a string of unsuccessful relationships, Arthur learned from each and every one of them what his limits were, and how to achieve the things he desired most. He never wanted to stop discovering.

It was why his latest one, so far the longest and most promising, was with a young American who was as cocky as most young doms tended to be, but there was a sweetness to him that attracted Arthur instantly like a fly to honey. They had met at a club, when Arthur's patience had been at an all time low but his desire to fuck at an all time high, all after a bad break up and bender. Alfred, who'd caught his eye across the dance floor, had immediately seen past his cold defenses and gone straight for the kill. Arthur knew instantly from their first little tryst together inside a cheap hotel room with more liquor and some torn sheets, he could learn from Alfred, learn to adapt and try new things, and Alfred could learn from him, for all of his experience.

Not long into their knowing each other, from single, midnight sessions to actual dating, Alfred made him want for more. With his shining personality, his youth and enthusiasm, even his petulance and ego, Arthur had a distinct and ever present desire to go  _ further _ , further than he'd ever gone with anyone before, whether they were tangled together in bed or otherwise.

Simply put, he was madly in love with him, and if that wasn't enough to annoy him, it was the fact that Alfred wanted him to wear a collar. Of all things. 

The one thing Arthur had never wanted to do. 

"You'll like it," Alfred had whispered to him, his cock buried deep in Arthur's ass as he lay on top of him, between rounds and thoroughly prepared to continue, but not before Arthur opened the little 'gift' he had prepared for him. Arthur was so utterly out of his mind, he could barely lift his head to see what was in the black velvet box placed in front of him. When he did however, his throat had tightened with a bit of anxiety. 

_ But-- _

"You... expect me to wear this?" 

"You will," Alfred replied, leaving no room for argument. Arthur didn't particular care to do so anyway, as by then the man was moving inside of him again, rendering him speechless and gasping. 

It was a pretty little thing, to be fair. Mostly subtle, too. High quality black leather in a thin strip, studded with small emeralds.  _ Real _ ones, because Alfred had the money to throw around and he liked spending it on him, even if Arthur wasn't in it for that. It was just ostentatious enough, just classy enough that Arthur could quite possibly get away with wearing it in public, underneath those shirts and ties that he'd always kept slightly loose before. 

He accepted the gift graciously, because that was who he was, but it took more of Alfred's kisses to convince him to let him put it on for him. When he did, Arthur's breath snagged in his throat a few times but otherwise, he did not complain. Alfred said it looked beautiful on him, just as he'd imagined it would. He'd looked at Arthur so painfully sincere, like he always did, and so he obeyed, freely, helplessly. It was going to get him in trouble someday, he was sure.

For now, it was simply the collar itself. Arthur wore it-- he most certainly did. He told himself he could get used to the ever-present feel of something pressing against his skin there, feeling it shift when he swallowed or talked or did anything but sit perfectly still. At work, he found himself running his fingers there, lingering, tugging at it. The more he did so, the more aware of it he was, which didn't help things.

He didn't dare remove it. Not because he couldn't, he was a grown man, fully capable of making his lover aware of his boundaries, and if he did not want to do something, all he had to do was say the word and Alfred would say nothing more on the matter. Alfred would love him all the same. But... Arthur  _ couldn't  _ remove it. The anticipation, the tantalizing excitement of what might happen when Alfred saw him next, when he peeled the trifle layers of his clothing away and saw the symbol of his passion, his ownership, around Arthur's throat--  _ that _ was enough to keep it. 

He thought about it so many times, it left him squirming in his seat during their hours apart, hand at his neck, tracing each jewel with trembling fingers. 

Alfred caught him one day, over dinner, touching it, slipping his finger under the band as if to loosen it. 

"Too tight?" Alfred asked, all too eager to perhaps remove it and put it on him again. Arthur only took it off to shower, always clasped it in the same place. 

"No."

"Then don't play with it." 

"It's just--" Arthur huffed and turned a sweet shade of cherry, stubbornly forcing his hands into his lap. He could have made any number of excuses or reasons, asked his lover to only make him wear it during special occasions, whatever was necessary to have the damnable thing off for time so he didn't have to think about it. But he didn't want to lie. Not to Alfred. "I have... I have a sort of... 'thing' about... my neck."

Alfred's grin was cat-like. "I know." 

Arthur looked up at him, dumbfounded. He'd never explicitly told Alfred as such before. His brow furrowed and he had a feeling he was missing something exceedingly important, but by then Alfred was already prowling towards him, close enough to come near and press his lips to the side of his neck, mouthing over the leather and jeweled studs. He stayed there as Arthur went perfectly still, a small, weak noise emitting from his throat, much to his mortification.

Alfred  _ knew. _

This smug little bastard. 

"Do you hate it?" Alfred asked again, breathed the words against him.

Arthur thought, long and hard, as his heart pounded and his fingers ached to touch him. "No..."

"Do you know why I picked this for you?" 

Arthur shook his head, slowly.

When Alfred laughed, he melted, and his eyes fluttered closed. He was in trouble. So much trouble. This man owned him, every part of him, and he could only lean into him as he felt those lips continue to kiss along the collar, words making love to him as he read Arthur's heart and answered.

"When I kiss you here... I know it makes you feel breathless. Vulnerable. Desperate. I know it makes your heart race, I know it makes you sweat and squirm,  _ needy _ , and that's why when you touch it _ \-- _ "

Arthur exhaled a pitiful 'yes' as Alfred's mouth closed over his Adam's apple.  

"...I want you thinking of me, every time you do." 


End file.
